


Titles Suck and So Does Dave Strider

by AlexanderTheMostlyOkay



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, I'm posting it so I won't have it staring at my from my folders anymore, M/M, Not humanstuck because I like Xeno, Shoosh don't tell anyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexanderTheMostlyOkay/pseuds/AlexanderTheMostlyOkay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which trolls and humans all live together<br/>Karkat 1st person<br/>Strider is a prick and Karkat's pissed off</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Karkat’s Dairy   
Day 612  
I have come to the conclusion that Dave Strider is out to ruin my life.  
Every day, the asshole gives me this smug grin, like he knows how big a boner his gaze gives me.   
Of course he fucking knows. I’m like a goddamned Disney princess staring off into space, blushing enough to make it look like I was hanging upside down from one of those monkey bar things for hours on end, uncaring that my entire fucking face has gone through a severe metamorphosis. The operation was successful, the doctors cried. You’re officially part tomato.   
Even typing this is making me think about how much I want to punch his gorgeous face, and then kiss it until neither of us can breathe.   
Strider is ridiculous. I’m ridiculous. This entire situation is ridiculous. 

I click the save button on the top corner of my document and sigh tiredly. Writing my feelings down wasn’t my idea- some old guy in a suit told me in this embarrassingly gentle voice that I had ‘anger issues’ and that ‘writing things down would help me better control my emotions’. I started writing in the beginning of high school, and I guess it started becoming a habit over time. As time went on, my entries became less self- hate and more confusion and lust over the blond idiot.   
I had known Strider before they forced trolls to go those stupid public schools. We were neighbors until we were 7 years old. The asshole gene apparently appeared in his older brother as well, because one day he decided that Dave and him were ‘too white for this neighborhood’ (even though aside from a few trolls, most of the population was white,) and decided to move to a high-raise apartment in the heart of Houston. I haven’t seen him at all until high school, which I was forced to enroll into due to ‘Troll equality’ movements. Goddamn waste of time if you ask me.   
What makes high school worse (aside from the ridiculous wake up time and homework,) is Strider. He’s basically the living entity of perfection, making straight men question their sexuality on a daily basis. He’s got a harem of leggy blonde chicks who squeal his name every time he breathes, and Terezi, who’s slightly cooler than those weirdoes. I have no fucking clue how she deals with the asshole’s irony shit, though. He’s a complete jerk, stretching his status as a ‘mega hot babe’ to a breaking point. He’s a tool, too, and no one sees it.   
I suppose that’s because, dear God, his beauty is blinding. So really, I shouldn’t talk about people swooning over him, considering I’m one of the many that were enthralled by the way the light hits his white-blond hair, the way he exhales when he’s annoyed, and the way he  
God  
Fucking  
DAMMIT  
I’m doing it again. Drooling over that insufferable prick.   
I need to call Sollux. I whip out my phone and angrily scroll through my contact list. The asshole has a way with killing anyone’s boner. Although that is a bit of a contradiction, considering he was my fuckbuddy for years. That’s the one human term I like. Fuckbuddy. Not quite a matespirt, not quite a moirail. It’s nice and in between.   
I find his number and call. He picks up on the second ring.   
“Sollux.”  
“What do you want, kk?”  
He doesn’t even really ask it. I can hear him sighing into his phone. Probably had to pause his all night gaming marathon. Now that’s real friendship right there. Real fucking honor.   
“If i¬¬¬t’s Strider again, so help me God, I’ll-”   
“Well, it is. However did you guess?”  
“How the fuck didn’t I?”  
He’s got me there. Anyone who knows me and has approximately two brain cells could see that I have the biggest flush-crush in the history of the multi-verse on him.   
“Yes, it’s Strider, okay? I just- I’m so close to being completely done with him.”  
“What do you want me to do about it?”  
“... I don’t fucking know. I’m not even sure why I called you.”  
At that moment I hear a little beep coming from my phone, telling me that I have another call on the line. I don’t recognize the number, and it’s got a 281 area code. I’m pretty sure it’s somewhere in Texas, so I answer. All I hear is this douchey southern drawl.   
“Heeeeeeey there.”  
Obviously I’ve been drunk dialed. The guy on the other end sounds pretty beat, so I consider hanging up.   
“Hey there sugar plum. How’s your night going, Karkat?”   
Holy fuckpancakes.   
“Who is this?” If the number isn’t in my contacts, I have no clue who it is. I’m not one to hand out my numbers to complete strangers. I don’t even know anyone with a Texas accent.   
“Yo, kitty, it’s obviously the Stride-master.”   
“…Strider?” I whisper. He’s a complete mess.   
I didn’t even know he had an accent.   
He slurring really badly, and I have to take a few seconds to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about.   
“The one and only, Kitty cat. Terter got me your number.”  
“Okay… Well, what do you want?” I was having a hard time getting the words out.   
“Felt like talking dirty. Felt like getting my voice into the deepest corners of your mind, where a great beast named phonesex awaits to be unleashed into the night, tearing through the streets, licking everyone sensually in places they didn’t know exist as it runs to do the dirty deed.”  
“You’ve…got the wrong number. Haveagoodnight.” My voice cracks on the last jumble of words, and I close my phone faster than anyone ever thought possible.   
I get right back onto the call with Sollux and recount the entire thing to him.   
“Did you seriously just hang up on him?”   
“What else was I supposed to do?”  
“Dude, you should’ve taken him up on it. You’ve wanted this forever. It isn’t ideal, but it’s something.”  
“He was drunk off his ass.”  
“Who cares? You should’ve let the great phonesex beast lick you sensually in places you didn’t know exist.”  
I hang up on him and climb into my recuperacoon.  
I think of Dave’s accent as my fingers find their way into my nook.   
What do you expect from me? I’m just a simple guy with an unsimple crush on the weirdest person on Earth.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, I’ve got a screaming headache and the last thing I want to do is get out of my respiteblock. Crabdad barges and starts screeching at me, and I do my best to pacify the monster. I end up giving up on the whole thing after about twenty minutes of strifing and throw on a shirt because fuck me sideways if I’m going to try to walk outside half naked. Another human law I think.   
I grab my school stuff before walking outside. I didn’t bother grabbing a jacket, but Jesus Christ, I should have. It’s about 30 degrees outside, and- dear heavenly rumble spheres- it’s just started snowing. Again. Well, at least the school is heated and only about half a mile away. I can make it.   
After standing outside for about 5 minutes, I decide that there is no way I am going to make it half a mile in the snow. I run back inside, tripping on my way upstairs and swearing loudly, and dig through my closet. Crabdad’s off doing some weird crab shit, so he’s not a problem. My hasty search ends up with an obnoxious red turtleneck. It’s really bright, but it’s warm, so I don’t care. I don’t have time to. I stick my hands in the pocket named after an Australian hopping creature.   
Wait just a second.   
My hands brush up against a folded up piece of paper. I pull it out and unfold the thing. It’s probably just discarded math notes, but I don’t really tear stuff out of notebooks.   
It’s scribbled all over in bright red ink. I breathe in deeply, trying to ignore the obvious stab at my blood color. Despite the fact that all humans share my blood color and it’s not weird to have cherry for blood here on earth, the hemospectrum still exists. The slander isn’t as bad as before, but it’s still there. The scrawl is unfamiliar and almost as messy as my own. There’re several half-hearted doodles of myself. I throw it on the ground and try to forget about it, walking out the door.   
The snow’s really blowing now. I have to stand at a fucking 45 degree angle to try and walk forward the wind’s blowing so much, and I’ve got a mouthful of snow.   
This goes on for about three more minutes before I hear someone roll up behind me. The truck’s pretty goddamn loud and the guy in it’s yelling at me. I can’t make out words, so I turn to look at the guy, so I could try and lip read him.   
Low and behold. Strider. I was hoping to avoid the asshat until second period but NO.   
“Get in the van loser, we’re going shopping.”  
Trying to hold back my uncool Japanese school girl blush, I yell back over the wind. “What the hell do you want?”   
“Man, if you feel like freezing your weird troll tail off that’s fine but I was offering you a ride.”   
That time I don’t hold back the blush. I hope I can blame it on the cold.   
“Yeah, I’ll take a ride.” My voice cracks again as I hurry to get out of the cold. “And I don’t have a tail.”  
I throw my bag into the back seat and I buckle up. I sit there awkwardly as he gets the car on the main road. He seems to understand I don’t want to talk, ‘cause he just keeps driving. He’s pretty good with the weather, especially considering he had to learn while living in Huston.   
He’s got his shades on, and I really hope those things are light enough for him to see around. I’m going to assume he can because I can see the outline of him pupils darting back and forth, and he’s moving his head back and forth ever so slightly. The refection from the truck’s inside lights are highlighting his cheekbones and his lips are parted ever so slightly. His hair’s neatly styled over his forehead, and he’s leaning forward.   
I watch his neck as he swallows. My heart is beating uncomfortably fast. I feel like I’m going to pass out, and my face is so hot it’s alarming.   
I jerk my gaze back to the road and try to control my breathing. I look back at him in the corner of my eye. He’s turned to me, and he’s got this little grin on his face. It’s like he can read me perfectly, and he’s so smug about it.   
Or maybe I’m just paranoid.  
I bring my head back to face out the window, doing my best to ignore him. I breathe in deeply, and I notice that my nose thawed enough to smell something new. It’s raw and sweet, vaguely like some sort of spice I can’t name. I realize that it’s probably Strider’s cologne. It’s not insufferable, like some human cologne, it’s a nice kind of spice, maybe like pine.   
The truck rolls to a stop and he’s parked haphazardly across about three spots in the student parking lot. He shifts into park and turns to me. Every cell in my body freezes up and all I can do is stare at the asshole gaping like a five year-old at a candy shop.   
“Got anything to say?” He drawls it out in his thick accent, purposely laying it on.   
The paranoia kicks back in. He was more coherent last night than I thought.   
My think pan is iced over.  
He laughs a little and turns away. “Yeah, I’m sorry about last night.” He’s got his hand on his cheek. “Rose came over, and she’s brought a whole lot of booze. Apparently her mom thought she needed ‘to get out and live life like all teenagers do’, armed her with alcohol, and sent her on her way, demanding that she does not come back until she’s drunk off her ass. Obviously, she would choose to go to my house, because, well, Striders know how to party. We had a little shindig with five other people and- I really don’t know what I was thinking.” His accent is gone now, and he’s unbuckled himself from the truck.   
“I-it’s fine.” Look at me. I am a Tsundere incarnate. Come see me in my natural environment, in the passenger seat of the hottest boy alive. Feel free to stick your fingers in the cage, I’m too much of a blubbering idiot to bite.   
“Nah, it’s not okay. I’m sure you flipped the fuck out. Don’t blame ‘ya. I’m sure I would too.” He’s mumbling now. He adds something to the end of the sentence, but I can’t make it out. I can’t find the courage in me to ask him more questions, so I drop the topic.   
“Well, thanks for the ride.” I get out a quickly as possible, grab my bag, and I knock my head on the top of the car’s frame. I mutter a few curses and run off, not looking back.   
I run into the building, almost slipping on the ice that formed.   
Today is going to be a fun day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure I'll finish a third chapter


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically Bio is the worst class for a troll to take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My editor isn't online and I'm too lazy to wait for her so you get this crap

I stop at my locker, and then make it into my phycology class just before the bell rings. I suffer through the lecture, taking minimal notes. The bell rings, and I make my way into bio.   
For some reason, they only teach human bio and force trolls to take it, because it has such a huge impact on our lives as a different fucking species.   
I take my normal seat, close to the back. Of course, Strider, the nosey bastard, throws his crap down next to me, binders and pens engulfing the whole damn table.   
“Hey.” He doesn’t even look at me. At least, I think he doesn’t. Those shades make it impossible to see what he’s looking at, and I’m sure that’s the real purpose. “So, what are we doing today?” He’s so nonchalant about the whole thing.  
“How the fuck am I supposed to know? Been here as long as you, smartass. Class hasn’t even started, but I guess you’re too cool to know that.” I snap at him, shoving his stuff over to his side of the table.   
He looks at me with this smug, indignant smirk, which I’m sure he’s had copyrighted at this point. Before he can open his mouth again, the teacher walks in. He has to be in his mid-50’s, is balding, and sets his jaw to make him look like his dog just got run over. Basically he’s a huge nookwhiffer.   
He starts going off on this whole thing about zygotes and human reproduction of how life is so damn cool and important. In his defense stem cell shit’s not bad if you teach it right, but obviously that wasn’t happening. Strider’s scribbling stuff all over a notebook, and I doubt that it has anything to do with the class. He, not so sneakily, scoots it over towards me, and gestures for me to read it. I decide, against my better judgment, to humor him.   
The paper’s covered in his ‘ironic’ doodles of some shitty characters. It takes me a while to find the words in the jumbled mess.   
“dude im sorry for all this shit i didnt know what i was thinking”  
I sigh and shove it back to him. I’m not going to talk to him any more on the issue.   
He looks at me like he’s hurt, scrunching up his eyebrows and I can also see the puppy dog eyes under the shades. What a dork. He starts trying to mouth something to me but fuck me if I can understand it, he’s going way too fast. The teacher stops and gives both of us one of those signature scowls all teachers have when they find someone doing something they shouldn’t be doing.   
“What are you two doing?” He’s using his “Boys you are in deep shit now” voice and I feel chills go down my spine. “Both of you, detention. This room after school, I’ll have you cleaning up after the rat dissections.” He doesn’t even give us a chance to explain anything, even though that would probably just hurt our case. He hates both of us anyway.   
Dave lets out an exaggerated sigh, pulling his eyebrows up, like he’s asking if that guy is being serious. We both know the fuckface is, and we’ll have to deal with it after school. Jade, who’s sitting about 2 rows in front of us gives me an apologetic shrug, turns back to her notes.   
We suffer through the rest of the class taking, myself taking minimal notes and Dave doodling.   
The rest of the day flies by and the next thing I know I’ve got my head in my locker with the end of day bell going off. I hear a vaguely familiar lisp over my shoulder and try to turn around to get a look at Sollux. Instead I just knock my horns against the top of the locker and mutter several profanities under my breath. “What do you want?” I’m rubbing my horn as I scramble to get everything in my bag before Mr. Nookmuncher extends my detention time.   
“Just heard that you got fucked over in Bio today. Felt sorry for you so I came over here to pity your ass.” He adjusts the strap on his laptop bag and shrugs a little. “Maybe you could come over after that to blow off some steam?”   
“If you’re asking for a blowjob then it’s a no.”   
I can tell I pissed him off because he takes in a lot of breath, sort of puffs himself up and closes his eyes behind those dorky 3D glasses. I laugh at him and leave without saying anything else to get to Bio.   
Strider’s standing in the doorway looking like a deer in the headlights for reasons I’m unaware of, but sure to find out shortly. I walk up behind him and he snaps out of it, so I had to assume it was some irrational fear of walking into classrooms alone. I subconsciously pull down the sleeves of my sweater over my hands, kneading the fabric in my fist.   
I hear the teacher rustle in the supply cabinet and a muffled shout from inside. “Come in!” He sounds almost happy, so I know something must be wrong. He saunters out of the back room and hands each of us a pair of goggles, gloves, and a large black trash bag. “Once all the dissections trays are cleaned you two can leave. I have to assume both of you have a ride home.” With that he leaves us in the empty class room that has just started to smell.   
Dave looks at me, and raises one of those elusive Strider eyebrows. He’s close enough to me that I can see the outline of his eyes, but not the color. It bugs me that I can get quite close enough. I think he does it on purpose too, the prick. He shrugs, mutters something, and slaps on the black gloves, getting ready to clean up the carefully picked apart carcasses of dead mice.   
I take a second to get a closer look at them. These aren’t the little cute mice someone gets as a pet or to feed a small snake. These are huge-ass sewer rats, and even though they’re dead, they still look like they would like to rip my face off. I shudder, and pull on the gloves. I set the goggles on the table, not really seeing a purpose for them. The sleeves I pulled down before are very quickly pulled up well past my elbows, and I start carefully pushing rat remains into the garbage bag.   
Dave does the same. We work in an uneasy silence for a few minutes before it becomes too much for him to handle. “You have a ride home?” He’s really nonchalant, and doesn’t even look up at me.   
“No,” I answer briefly and reluctantly. I don’t want to have to suffer another car ride with him.   
He mumbles something in reply and starts talking under his breath. It picks up a smooth rhythm, and it’s pretty obvious he’s trying to rap. I guess ‘try’ isn’t a proper way to describe it. It’s more like ‘get into the car, drive half a block before losing control and slamming into a lamp post.”   
When I can’t take it anymore more, it put down the bag and yell at him, “For the love of fuck will you stop it!” He shuts up for a split second before continuing, even louder.   
He’s wailing away for about 5 seconds before I drop the bag and walk out of the room, making a hasty retreat to the bathroom to wash my hands before I leave. Unsurprisingly, he follows me. Dave’s taken off his gloves, they’re probably sitting in a dissection tray in the lab. He’s still talking, I’m still tuning it out.   
I don’t pick up a single word until he leans over me, inches from my face. For once, he’s close enough to pick up the color of his eyes. They’re red. Just like mine. Dave pulls the shades off to give me a clear look. It takes me a second to notice that he stopped talking and is looking at me with an almost pained expression. He leans in and quickly presses his lips to mine. He pulls back just as fast.   
“It wasn’t just the booze talking last night. I really do like you.”   
He tastes like apple juice and sweat. It’s salty but nice, and his breath is warm on my skin. Not knowing what I’m doing, I grab him the front of his shirt and kiss him back.


End file.
